


When the sun found the moon

by thepilot



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, M/M, Pining, Spring Cleaning, thrift store
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14702157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepilot/pseuds/thepilot
Summary: Bodhi finds something that was donated to the thrift store he works at. It was NOT supposed to be donated. Some mild swearing.





	When the sun found the moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AliciaSinCiudad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliciaSinCiudad/gifts).



> For the cleaning and pining prompts.

Bodhi shifted his stance for the fifth time since he had gotten behind the register. He'd purposely worn his purple Dr Marten lace-ups today for the purposes of standing a long time. Why were Wednesday’s always this slow? He figured it had to be some amazing sale at another thrift store or something.

With a groan, Bodhi plopped his arms and head down on the counter, resisting the urge to check his phone. When he'd taken the job at Thrifty Shopper, he'd expected there to be more entertainment: cool old stuff, awesome clothes, books, CD’s, thatsort of thing. What he got, was crap people donated that they didn't want anymore. Which made sense.

The bells hooked around the door pull jingled, and Bodhi bolted to attention. An incredibly handsome guy was carrying in a giant box full of clothing. Bodhi sprung to attention, sliding out from behind the counter and offering assistance.

Handsome Guy frowned at Bodhi as he propped open the door with his foot. No, he didn't just frown at Bodhi. He barely looked at him. Bodhi tried to smile at Handsome Guy as he returned with another box from his beat up truck, but he just kept his gaze elsewhere. So Bodhi stared at him. Handsome Guy’s hair looked so soft, Bodhi desired nothing but to run his hands through it, and he was pretty sure his jawline could cut glass.

Bodhi, on the other hand, looked adorable in his Pikachu hat and new glasses, he knew it. If this guy was that offended by Bodhi’s fashion sense, he figured he wasn't worth the effort.

With a small “thanks,” the guy got back in his truck and drove away. Bodhi was quite positive that that was going to be the most exciting thing that would happen to him that day. That was, of course, until he brought all of Handsome Guy’s stuff to the back room and started sorting it.

There were dozens of old t-shirts Bodhi most certainly did not smell, some crappy boots, which Bodhi REALLY did not smell, jeans, some of the same science books Bodhi remembered having when he was in undergrad, and one very loved brown bomber jacket.

Bodhi did his routine examination of all the donations, and saved the jacket for last. People always left things in pockets: tissues, wrappers, sometimes jewelry, combs, etc. and Handsome Guy had seemed to do an excellent job of cleaning out all of his pockets. Except the pockets of his brown jacket.

Each pocket seemed to have a poem hastily shoved inside, the paper worn and well-creased. And they were mesmerizing poems. On a piece of graph paper was scribbled:

 _The breeze whispers secrets_  
_Soft words murmured in my ear_  
_I am listening for word of you_  
_Your name can't be spoken this way_  
_Secrets are only rumors_  
_I will find you_  
_The breeze lies_  
_My heart breaks_  
_Only you can mend me_

In what appeared to be highlighter on a napkin, there was:

 _The sun shone softly on your face_  
_Each beam highlighting beauty_  
_You laughed and I turned away  
The moon is too dark_

And on a piece of loose-leaf paper:

 _Do flowers know their beauty?_  
_They are bright and open and inviting to life in the sun_  
_Sought out by humans and birds and bees_  
_Their fragrances carry ecstasies_  
Their colors are rich and enticing  
 _But at night, they are shy and hide_  
 _Only the moon knows they are there_  
 _But the moon never gets to see them_  
 _As beautiful as they truly are  
The flower sleeps at night and never sees the moon_  
 _You will never see me_

 _Damn, that's some shit,_ Bodhi thought to himself. There were more, but they were incredibly difficult to read. Bodhi could make out more “sun” and “moon” references, but that was about it. He shoved all the poems back in the pockets he'd found them in, and started looking for some sort of a phone number for Handsome Guy, but came up empty handed. Bodhi sighed and folded up the brown jacket, setting it aside as he prepped Handsome Guy’s other belongings to be priced and put out. It would figure that Handsome Guy was not only handsome, but wrote cool poetry, too.

\---------------------------------

“Kay, I absolutely don't know what I did with my brown jacket, and I've been looking for two weeks now. I have to get that jacket back. I'd be absolutely mortified if anyone found those stupid poems I wrote back in college.”

Kay set his laptop aside and scrubbed a hand over his face as his roommate started rooting through his closet again.

“Yes, but why would that shit jacket be in _my_ closet? And why do you only care about it now? You haven't worn that thing since you graduated.”

Cassian sank to the floor, running his hands through his hair. “I must've done _something_ with it.”

Kay rolled his eyes at his friend and resumed typing on his laptop. “You mean like donated it someplace? Because that's how dumb you are sometimes.”

There was a moment of silence as a shadow crept over Cassian’s face. He collapsed to his side and let out a huge groan. “No. _No, no, no, no, no_.”

“You donated it, didn't you?”

\--------------------------

Driving the 15 minutes to Thrifty Shopper seemed to take an eternity, and Cassian’s heart was racing faster than his car. He zipped into the parking lot and nearly jumped out of his truck, jogging inside. The sales clerk he’d seen the when he'd dropped everything off was nowhere in sight, and Cassian felt on their verge of a panic attack.

The lady working behind the counter smiled at Cassian as he approached.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked in a voice much too cheery for Cassian’s situation.

“I was here, about two weeks ago, and I made a donation. I accidentally donated something I didn't mean to. It's a brown jacket, and-”

The lady cut him off, putting a hand up to silence Cassian politely before he was able to finish. She picked up a phone, clearly paging someone. “Someone will be right here, sir.”

A bobbing Pikachu hat appeared, belonging to someone who was far too adorable to have something additionally adorable on them. Cassian was relieved it was the same guy from when he'd dropped his stuff off, until he stared at the guy longer.

“Oh hey, I remember you! You know, you donated textbooks from some of the same classes I used to take! Small world!”

Cassian was pretty sure he was about to faint.

“You donated a jacket too? With some poetry? Must've been a bad break-up or something, bruv. I'm sorry. I can see why you’d want to ditch it. Someone could steal your poetry though, man. That would be even worse.”

“My jacket,” Cassian echoed his later than he'd anticipated.

“Did you not mean to donate it? I've got it. I mean, I didn't take it, but I set it aside.”

Cassian just nodded.

“Let me just go grab it for you.”

A few moments later, and the bobbing Pikachu hat returned.

“There you go, man. Some good stuff in there. You should get it published or something. You've got a good muse.”

“You,” Cassian said distantly. “Bodhi,” he said in a whisper.  Bodhi frowned, and Cassian wasn't entirely sure this wasn't some awful dream.

“How do you know my name? Wait, were you in one of my bio classes? Shit, what was your name?”

“Cassian.”

“Right, Cassian. Damn, I'm sorry. I can't believe I couldn't remember. But then again I was taking almost double my credits each semester and I barely knew if I was coming or going!” Bodhi chuckled. “It's like your one poem? That you wrote about the moon and flowers? Like how the flowers never see the moon, and the moon wants to see the flowers, but it can't because the flowers are...Wait. Me? Those were all about me?” It had taken Bodhi a long time to grasp what Cassian had been trying to say in response to Bodhi mentioning a muse, but Cassian could tell it had suddenly all made sense by the expression in Bodhi’s face.

“I need to go,” Cassian said softly, hugging his jacket close to his chest and heading for the door.

“No! Cassian, I was so busy in school. I had no clue! Now that I'm 5 years out of college and working at a shitty job that has nothing to do with my major, I can see how I seemed like a big jerk that ignored you. Believe me, if I had realized back then, we'd be married by now.”

Cassian couldn't help but blush at that, a slight smirk playing at his lips.

“Please, Mr. Moon? Let me make it up to you?”

Cassian smiled at Bodhi and nodded. “When do you get out of work?”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, pathetic use of the whole "moon" thing. 
> 
> Bodhi's appearance is based on an actual Thrifty Shopper employee, whom I have seen wear a Rogue One shirt.


End file.
